Ink Stamped Image
by Apocalypse Sugar
Summary: The ups, downs, and pressures of being an Innkeeper's daughter.


**A/N: Ever since I picked up Persona 4, I've had a special connection to Yukiko. I was born into a hotel family as well. So I thought I'd write a little something on what it actually means.**

* * *

The soft pitter pater of bare feet rang down the hallway outside the rooms on the second floor. It was the only sound in the empty space as the sun reached the middle of the sky. They belonged to the Innkeeper's daughter, a small kimono clad girl no more than the age of four. She spent her time running around the inn doing whatever she pleased with her time. The Inn was her playground.

It became quiet when she stopped at the last door. She stood still for a moment, waiting for her mother to acknowledge her. When she didn't call out to her, she stomped her feet a few times in an attempt to gain attention.

"Yuki-chan, dear," Her mother's voice said from inside, "I'm a little busy. Can it wait?"

The girl reached her hand out and pulled open the sliding door. "But Mommy, I wanna play with you! You're always working." Her feet hammering the floor as she stepped in, leaving the door wide open behind her.

A sigh came from the older woman as the child made her way around the backside of the desk. But nonetheless, she picked her daughter up and let her sit on her lap. "If you want to spend time with Mommy, you have to be good, okay?"

Yukiko nodded. A smile shined on her face now that she had at least some of her mother's attention. Her curious eyes watched as one of the arms on either side of her took a wooden block and pressed it onto a black compact before lowering it down onto a piece of paper. The hands continued to do the same integrate motion over and over again. The image the block left behind was one of four scripted kanji, two of which she recognized from different places around the inn: big lettered signs, printed and inked on stationary, and stitched into uniforms and futon blankets.

"What are you doing? How is this working? It looks like you're just doing art! How is this working?" She asked, cranking her neck upwards towards her mother, eager for her to answer her. She continued to rattle off thoughts and questions as they came to her.

"This is a stamp," she interrupted, "I have to put my name on all these papers so our guests know I've reviewed their charges, and that I value serving them as the Inn's manager. The papers are receipts that we slip under the doors the morning of check out." She explains, "This stamp adds a personal touch that I want every guest to feel they have when they stay here." She sets the wooden stamp aside and points to the newly inked image. "It's my name written in kanji, 'Amagi Shinju.'"

The young girl scrunched her eyebrows. "But your name is Mommy. Mommy Amagi. You can't have more than one name," She said, frowning down at the paper.

Her mother laughed, "I have a first name of my own. Like you, Yuki-chan. You're Amagi Yukiko, much like I'm Amagi Shinju."

"I wanna try it," Yukiko exclaimed, perking up again. It was typical that she didn't dwell on one topic for very long, instead jumping to the next thing that was on her mind. It mirrored the way children usually act at that age. She reached for the wooden block and stabbed it into the ink pad before squishing it onto one of the inkless sheets. The resulting image was a large black square that bled through to the other side from excessive force.

Yukiko squinted, trying to comprehend why her's looked so much different from her mother's. "How come mine doesn't look like your's, Mommy? I want mine to be pretty too."

"It can be difficult to master," the mother grasped her daughter's hand in her own. "It has to be pressed down gently, we just want ink on the parts of the stamp that are sticking out. We also don't want too much, or it will seep through to the other side." She applied the correct amount of pressure to the stamp onto the ink pad, guiding Yukiko with her every movement. "We use the same amount of force on the paper to come up with a nice, clean image," she continued, lowering the stamp onto the next receipt in the stack. When she lifted it back up, a perfectly inked image was left on the paper.

"Wow!" Yukiko beamed, "I hope to be as good as you someday!"

Her mother smiled, wrapping her arms around her daughter. "Of course you will be, I have no doubts," she reassured her, "The inn will be in good hands when you become manager."

"You think so?" She looked up at her mother.

"I know so," she giggled, giving her daughter a soft kiss on the forehead.

The two sat in silence, Yukiko staring at her mother with such admiration as she ran her hands across her cool skin, chilled from the cold winter air. She liked spending these quiet moments with her mother, feeling her slender fingers run through her long hair, the soft humming that reached it's peak below a whisper, and the kind smile that reminded her she was safe in her arms. There was nothing like spending time with her mother.

Although the door was already open a knock echoed through the small office space. Their attention snapped to the sudden noise, hindering their moment. One of the inn workers was kneeling just outside the door. The color of her kimono, Yukiko observed, indicated she was from the kitchen staff.

"What is it, Nakamura?" her mother questioned. Yukiko felt her mother's hands slip from her scalp and down to rest on her forearms. The cheerful tone in her voice broke down into a mellow and professional stature. She had seen her put up this front on many occasions, the sudden transition never fazes her.

The worker placed her hands in front of her on the floor and bowed slightly to her superior before speaking, "Abe-san checked in a large group without a reservation and they are expecting lunch. Amagi-san doesn't have the proper supplies to fix them all a meal. He is throwing a fit and threatening to have us all fired. I thought it would be best to come to you since you are the only one that can calm him down in these situations."

Yukiko heard her mother intake a sharp and loud breath and felt her breasts push against the back of her head. "I'm on it." Once the words were out of her mouth, the raven haired girl pouted as she slid off her mother's lap. She knew she shouldn't be disappointed, but she had to force herself to understand. Especially when it came to her father's rage in the kitchen.

Her eyes followed her mother's back as she made her way to the door where the employee was waiting to escort her. Once she was alone, she took a seat in her mother's gigantic office chair and began swinging her legs since they hung so far from the ground. Guests always commented on how cute and tiny she was, to which she would boldly tell them she was normal and that they were just giants! Some laughed it off and called her cute again, others took offense and said she shouldn't speak to an adult that way, then there were those her told her a lady didn't speak out of term…

The clock against the far wall ticked away the seconds, providing hushed background noise for her thoughts. But soon they were interrupted by another worker poking her head into the office.

"Yukiko-chan," she squeaked, "your mother has sent me to retrieve you. She wishes for me to accompany you to the bath." She didn't bow, just stood there with a smile plastered across her face. Her hand beaconed her over, and Yukiko blindly came without a word.

When she shut the door behind her, she continued to hear the clock. She wondered why it was necessary for it to notify her every second with it's rhythmic ticking. Once the worker grabbed her hand, she forgot.

* * *

**A/N: Again, sorry. I was planning on this being a one-shot deal, but then I came up with a few other things to go along with this type setting. So expect more soon.**


End file.
